


Circumstance

by ExploringWonders



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Comfort, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Ladynoir | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Marichat | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sick Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Sick Character, Sickfic, Thief Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExploringWonders/pseuds/ExploringWonders
Summary: "I had one job, Tikki. One." Marinette hoisted the hero up by his underarms and began dragging him to the front door. "My parents trusted me to run the bakery for one day.""And you were--""Was I perfect? No!" She opened the door with her foot and held it open with her hip as she dragged her partner inside. "I made mistakes. I burned a few too many batches of cookies, but I still made a profit," she said, going over the numbers in her head again while she made her way to the stairs."But is dragging a feverish and borderline unconscious superhero up three flights of stairs part of my job description?" She stared frantically at the kwami."Um...""No! No, it is not."When Chat Noir arrives at the bakery's front door, suffering from an unknown illness, Marinette doesn't hesitate to bring him inside, but after a few days, it becomes clear he's not going to recover on his own. She decides to take matters into her own hands, but the measures she's willing to go to might be a bit too desperate.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	1. Voicemail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chat Noir is sick, Ladybug isn't answering her phone, and softballs are not soft.

“Marinette,” Sabine called up the stairs. “Are you sure you don’t need me to show you how the cash register works again?”

“Mom, you’ve already shown me five times,” Marinette said, climbing down the stairs with a stack of aprons in her arms. “And that’s just this morning.”

“I know,” her mother said, “but what if we get to London, and you forget how it works?"

“If you really think I’ll forget, you can write down the instructions,” Marinette suggested, “but I seriously don’t think I’ll need--”

“Way ahead of you, Marinette.” Tom raced through the kitchen, taping slips of paper to the walls, the oven, and the fridge. “This one is our family cookie recipe, this one is our family cake recipe, this one is our family macaron recipe, this one is our...”

Marinette placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Mom.”

“... this one is our family croissant recipe, and this one,” Tom held up what looked like the final piece of paper, “has the instructions for the cash register.” He handed it to Marinette. “I’d put that one in your apron.”

She slipped it into her pocket. “Thank you, Dad.”

Sabine glanced at the clock. “Goodness! Tom, we’re going to be late!” She started racing around the room, making sure they had packed everything they needed.

Tom looked back to Marinette. “Okay, say you’re going to bake something. What is the first thing you do?”

“Dad, you’ve already asked me that ten times,” Marinette sighed. “I preheat the oven.”

“Then you--”

“ _ Then _ …” she continued, “I gather all of the ingredients and materials, and I follow the recipe exactly as it says.”

“That’s my girl.” Her father smiled. “You’ll do just fine running the bakery while we’re gone.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said. “Now go!” She pushed her parents to the door. “You’re going to be late for your train!”

“One more thing,” Sabine added with one foot out the door. “We’ll probably be back after midnight, so don’t stay up to wait for us.”

“I won’t,” Marinette said. “Now go!”

She pushed them out the door. “We love you, sweetie!” Sabine called.

“Love you, too!” Marinette closed the door in her parents’ faces and showed them the time on her phone through the glass. They ran off towards the train station.

As they disappeared behind a corner, Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. The oven's timer went off, and Marinette slid on her oven mitts. She opened the oven and was hit with warm air, followed by the sweet aroma of cookies.

Her kwami flew out of her purse. "I think this is your best batch yet, Marinette."

"Thanks, Tikki," she smiled, taking the cookies off of the rack and setting them on the counter. "I'll let you have the first one when they cool off."

Angry shouting erupted in the distance, followed by maniacal laughter. Marinette turned to her kwami. "Any chance that isn't an akuma?"

Tikki turned to the tray of cookies and sighed. "I doubt it."

“Tikki, spots on!”

o0o

"Chat! Pay attention!"

Chat Noir whirled around, dodging whatever object had just shot past his face. Ladybug had a hand on his shoulder, her attention on the akuma in front of her. She spun her yo-yo into a shield, which deflected another attack aimed at the duo. "I can take this guy alone if you need to--"

"No!" He said. She gave him a startled look. "I mean... I just--"

"Look out!"

She shoved him out of the way, falling on top of him as a projectile soared over their heads. Still dizzy, Chat Noir coughed into his hand. "Are you okay?” Ladybug asked. “You don't seem yourself today."

He stood and coughed again. "It’s just a cold," he said, grinning at her. "Were you  _ purr _ -ied about me?"

“What? No.” They jumped out of the way of another attack, both landing on their feet this time. "I think your cold might be messing with your sense of humor," Ladybug commented.

"Ha ha."

“Give me your Miraculous, Ladybug and Chat Noir!” The akuma, a kid no older than ten, screamed at them. He had summoned an army of sports equipment that relentlessly fired themselves at the duo. The heroes struggled to dodge basketballs and baseball bats, all while trying not to get smacked in the face with a kickball.

“Watch out for the dodgeballs,” Ladybug yelled. “If one of them hits you, you’ll disappear!”

Before her partner could respond, a softball hit him in the stomach, effectively knocking the breath out of him. He fell to his knees and doubled over in pain.

“Chat!” Ladybug swung towards him.

“Those things,” he gasped. “Are not soft.” He erupted into a coughing fit and wrapped his arms around his torso.

“Watch out!” Ladybug tackled her partner as a skeet shooting target exploded against the wall behind them.

The heroine jumped to her feet immediately, using her yo-yo to dodge attacks while her partner used his staff to get his feet underneath him. “Thanks,” he whispered between labored breaths.

“That’s it.” Ladybug wrapped an arm around Chat Noir and swung away from the fight. She set him down on an empty sidewalk and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. "Go home, Chat. You're sick."

"I'm not sick."

She swung her arm towards his face as if she were going to punch him. Her fist stopped an inch from his nose. Once he realized what was happening, he feebly swatted her hand away.

"Go home.” She pulled out her yo-yo and swung away.

“Ladybug, wait!” Chat Noir chased after her. When he got back to the fight, he was out of breath.

Ladybug was holding a red dodgeball with black spots. She looked up at him with irritation on her face. "What did I tell you?"

"I can't just leave you to fight alone, m'lady." He turned to face the akuma. "Do you have a plan?"

She glanced around for a second. "I do," she answered. "I'm going to do what he wants."

"Not sure I'm following you."

"Ever played dodgeball?" She tossed the ball into the air and caught it in her other hand. "Watch my back for me."

"On it."

"Hey, Sportsman!" Ladybug yelled. "I think this is unnecessary roughness!"

The akuma frowned. "Not yet, it isn't!" A line of dodgeballs gathered near him. "Attack!"

Ladybug leaped into the air, deflecting the attacks with her lucky charm and waiting for her perfect opportunity.

Finally, she saw it. A lone dodgeball, sailing through the air and coming at her from above. It was an easy catch, but it also meant another one would be shooting at her face like a bullet.

"Chat! Cover me!"

Her partner leaped in front of her, knocking the faster dodgeball out of the way with his staff while the other landed gently in Ladybug's hands.

"No!" Sportsman yelled, disappearing in a flash of light. The coach's whistle he was wearing fell to the ground, and Ladybug slammed her foot onto it.

Chat Noir sat down and watched Ladybug capture the akuma and repair the damages. When the ladybugs disappeared, a young boy was standing on the roof with them. "What happened?"

Ladybug held her fist up, and Chat Noir met it with his. "Pound it."

She stood and went to talk to the boy. They were about to leave when she turned around. "Hey, kitty?"

"Yes, Bugaboo?"

"You should go for a walk," she said. "Walking always helps me clear my head. It might help with your cold."

"Thanks," he smiled. "I'll think about it."

When she disappeared behind a building, Chat Noir stood. He stretched for a minute and took off for the park.

His transformation wore off as soon as his feet hit the ground. As the electricity washed over him, all the physical exertion he had just put himself through hit him, and he realized just how tired he was. He had to lean against the fence just to keep himself from falling.

"Adrien!" He turned to find Natalie running towards him. "Thank goodness," she said. "Are you okay? Where were you?"

"I was…" He looked around for an excuse. He saw a stack of water bottles and realized how thirsty he was. "I was looking for some water."

"You had us all worried sick," Natalie said. She took his hand and started walking, slowing down when she noticed he was falling behind. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I'm fine."

Natalie shot him a skeptical look before leading him to where they were shooting. "I found him, Beau," she said to the photographer and his assistant.

The photographer turned around. "Finally," he said. "What happened to your hair, boy? Did she find you in a tree?"

"I was--"

"Forget it," he said. "We can fix it on the computer." He marched towards his camera, expecting the boy to do the same.

Natalie walked up beside Adrien and handed him a bottle of water. "I found this for you," she said.

He took the bottle from her. "Thank you, Natalie."

"Hurry up, boy, the camera is waiting!"

Adrien looked at the unopened water bottle before reluctantly setting it down and following obediently.

"Sit down right there." Beau pointed to the edge of the fountain. No sooner did Adrien sit down than the camera's flash hit him in the face. He slammed his eyes shut in surprise and turned away.

"Monsieur Adrien," the photographer said, annoyed. "Look this way."

Adrien turned, placing a hand on his temple and looking for the camera. His eyes landed on the lens. After another flash, he turned away again.

"Adrien, I need you to pay attention."

"Sorry," he answered. He saw a bench in the corner of his eye. "Can I... Can I take a quick break?"

“You just took one,” the photographer answered.

"Please?"

"Fine," he huffed. "Be back in five."

Adrien stood, grabbing a water bottle. “Thank you.” The photographer walked away, so he went to find that bench he saw earlier.

Plagg flew out of Adrien’s shirt and sat on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Adrien reached into his pocket as he sat down and set a wheel of camembert beside him. “I’m fine.” He picked up the water bottle and drank half of it between breaths. He noticed the kwami hadn’t touched his cheese. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Plagg gave the boy a concerned look before flying after his camembert.

Natalie chased after the photographer. "Is there any chance we can reschedule this?" She asked, stealing nervous glances at the teen every few seconds.

"Reschedule?"

"I think Adrien is coming down with something," she explained. "He needs to go home and rest."

Beau pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. "Look, miss, Monsieur Agreste is paying me for fifty good photos. I've taken two."

"And if you don't reschedule, you're not going to get any more."

"That's what graphic design is for," he countered. "Look, I just need forty-eight more pictures. He smiles for ten minutes, he goes home. Deal?"

"No. He's going home to rest." She began to leave and find Adrien before the photographer stopped her.

"You know the boy's not your son, right?"

She was in his face before he could blink. "And you're not his father! You don't make decisions for him. I do." She turned and stomped away.

"Look, all I'm saying is-"

"No, you look." She was in his face again. "You need to thank God that I don't have the authority to fire you, but don't expect Monsieur Agreste to hire you for any more photoshoots."

The photographer began to bargain with her then, but she had already turned away from him and stormed off.

Natalie found Adrien slumped over a park bench. His breathing was heavy, and his eyes were closed. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't respond.

She looked at her watch and then again at the sleeping boy. Careful not to wake him, she slid her arms underneath the boy and began to carry him to the car.

She carefully opened the car door with her foot and slid Adrien into the back seat before getting in on the passenger's side. Adrien's bodyguard looked at her in confusion. "We're going home," she said.

o0o

Adrien's bodyguard opened the door for Natalie as she walked in with Adrien in her arms. Gabriel met her before she could get to the stairs.

"What's going on," he asked.

"Adrien's sick," she answered. "I ended the shoot early so he could rest." Worry spread across her face. "I hope you don't mind."

He looked down at his son. "No… No, you did the right thing," he said. "Here." He held out his arms. "Let me."

She passed the boy over to him and followed them up the stairs to Adrien's room. Together, they got Adrien onto his bed and pulled the blankets over him.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Natalie asked.

"I hope so," he answered. "I'll call the doctor when he wakes up."

"There's something you need to know," she said, "about the new photographer you hired."

Gabriel followed her out of the room, closing the door a little too loudly. Adrien's eyes fluttered open.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Plagg said. "Enjoy your cat nap?"

Adrien blinked a few times and raised up. "What… What happened?"

"Natalie took you home."

"Oh."

"You should probably walk around a bit," the kwami suggested. "Ladybug said it would help with your cold."

Adrien looked out the window at the peaceful afternoon outside.

"I think I will," he said. "Claws out."

o0o

Chat Noir shivered and stumbled across the rooftops. With no clue where he was going, he passed the park and the school and eventually the Eiffel Tower. After a while, standing became a struggle, and his legs gave out on him every five feet.

He grabbed his baton, but it slipped through his fingers as his vision blurred, and he slumped, wincing when his head hit the pavement. Slowly, he reached for it again, plucking it off the ground and dialing Ladybug’s number.

_ “This is Ladybug. Leave a message.” _

"Hey, Ladybug," he coughed, peeling himself off the ground and leaning against a wall. "I went out to clear my head like you said, but… I'm kind of embarrassed to ask this. Um… I kind of don't think I can walk anymore? Could you, maybe, if you're nearby, come and help me get home?"

He ended the call and waited a few minutes. Above him, the blue sky turned to brilliant shades of orange, and he decided to call her again.

_ “This is Ladybug. Leave a message.” _

“Hey, Ladybug. I was wondering if you got my voicemail. If you did... Are you on your way? I was thinking…” A violent cough interrupted him. “... about trying to walk again… Are you coming?”

He waited for another few minutes before trying to get his feet underneath him. The streetlights below him grew foggy, and cars became caterpillars as they drove down the street. He heard his staff hit the roof’s shingles again and placed his hand against the wall to steady himself.

"Where are you, Ladybug?"

Swaying back and forth, he placed one foot in front of him, put weight on it, and collapsed. He found his staff through blurry vision and called his partner again.

_ “This is Ladybug. Leave a message.” _

"You don't have to worry about my secret identity. I'm transformed," he said. "You can stop about a mile away from my house… I can probably get home from there." He coughed again, placing a hand on his chest and staring at a few drops of blood that had landed on the roof. "Please," he rasped. "I need you."

He set the staff down next to him and waited for his partner to pick up. After a few minutes of silence, he tried standing.

He managed to get onto his hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the roof. The wind picked up, and he shivered, looking for a way down to the street. The moon cast its light onto a ladder, and he crawled over to it, swinging himself over the edge of the roof and planting his feet on one of the rungs. Every downward step took the air out of his lungs. It would return with a sharp pain in his throat, and he would attempt another step.

His foot slipped two stories above the sidewalk, and he crashed onto the street, gasping for air between coughing fits.

A horn sounded in the distance. When his vision returned to him, he found himself in the direct path of a speeding car. Its tires scraped against the ground with a horrible shriek as its horn blared again.

Chat Noir leaped out of the car’s way, rolling onto the sidewalk. His head slammed into the brick wall behind him, and the car, along with the rest of his surroundings, faded from his vision.


	2. I Wasn't Expecting Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marinette wasn't expecting company.

The sky above the bakery had turned a brilliant shade of gold, and Marinette stole a moment of relief from the mass of customers with a glance at the clock.  _ Ten minutes. Just ten more minutes. _

They were the slowest ten minutes of her life, but she lived. One by one, or sometimes two by two, the customers trickled out of the bakery. When they were gone, Marinette locked the door and scanned the store for anyone she might have missed. She opened the cash register and thumbed through the money, counting every euro and comparing the amount to the number of pastries she sold. The numbers matched. She was done for the day.

She turned the knob on the bakery’s front door to make sure it was locked and made her way up the stairs, where she picked out a pair of pajamas and climbed into them.

_ Finally. _

The gentle cloud that was her bed awaited her arrival like a groom on his wedding day. The exhausted bride climbed the steps to meet it and threw herself into its embrace.

o0o

Marinette heard a car blow its horn in the distance, and she reluctantly sat up in bed. Outside, tires screeched and another, louder horn echoed through her bedroom. "What was that," she whispered.

She clambered down the stairs from her bed, hands fumbling for her phone. Her room lit up with blue light as she turned it on and squinted at the glowing screen.

_ Ten forty-five, _ she thought.  _ But Mom and Dad won't be back until after midnight. _

"It was probably another pigeon trying to cross the street." Her kwami yawned. "I think sometimes they forget they can fly."

She peeked out the window onto the street, where the commotion had settled and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

"You're right, Tikki. It's probably nothing." Once again, Marinette ascended the stairs to her bed and settled under the blankets. "Goodnight, Tikki."

"Goodnight, Marinette."

Marinette rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes.

And opened them again.

There was a thump downstairs. It fit the description of a common bump in the night, but Marinette wasn't sure. She glanced at Tikki, who still appeared to be fast asleep on the pillow next to her.

Marinette rolled onto her other side, adjusting the covers into a cocoon around her head and closing her eyes.

And opening them again. She glanced at the clock.  _ Eleven thirty.  _ She knew she wasn't getting any sleep until she investigated.

Her eyes scanned the room for weapons, eventually landing on the textbooks she brought home from school. Grabbing a few, she carefully opened the trapdoor and descended the stairs. "Hello?" She called in a hushed voice. "Mom? Dad? Is that you?" She turned on the living room lights. "Did you get home early?"

The living room was empty, so she started down the stairs to the bakery. "I'm armed," she called. She looked at the small history textbook in her hands and began to shiver.

Marinette peeked around the corner into the store, but it was just as she had left it. She checked behind the counter and under the tables, constantly looking over her shoulder. After a few minutes, she confirmed that she was alone in the bakery.

_ Maybe the noise came from outside. _

She was about to go back up the stairs when her curiosity got the best of her. She peeked out the store windows but saw nothing. Holding the textbook to her chest, she grabbed the keys and slowly unlocked the door, cautiously stepping out onto the sidewalk. The door closed behind her, and she jumped when the bell chimed. Regardless, she pressed on.

Around the corner, she could see the dark outline of a shoe. She held the book in front of her like a sword and stepped closer, quietly gasping when she saw who the shoe belonged to.

"Chat Noir?"

He was slumped onto the wall of the building, and his eyes were closed. Other than the slow rise and fall of his chest, he was eerily still.

Marinette knelt down and noticed his hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, tiny beads of it streaking down his face.

A gentle breeze kissed her bare arms, and she shivered, looking back and forth between the bakery and her partner.

"Marinette!" The girl's head shot up as her kwami raced towards her. "What are you doing outside? It's freezing out here!" The kwami shivered. Her eyes fell on the hero below her, and she zipped behind her chosen without another word.

"It's okay, Tikki. He's asleep," Marinette said. "Or maybe unconscious. I'm not sure."

The kwami slowly left her hiding place, eyeing the boy with concern. "What are we going to do?"

Marinette looked over at the front door of the bakery, judging its distance from her. "I need to get him inside," she decided. "Hopefully, he's as light as he looks."

Marinette hoisted the hero up by his underarms and began dragging him to the front door. Her foot slipped on the dew-covered pavement, and she fell on her backside, grunting in frustration.

"I had  _ one _ job, Tikki.  _ One _ ," she complained as she stood and dusted herself off. "My parents trusted me to run the bakery for  _ one _ day."

"And you were-"

"Was I perfect? No!" She awkwardly wrapped her arms around the hero again and continued toward the door. "I made mistakes. I burned a few too many batches of cookies, but I still made a profit," she said, going over the numbers in her head again. She opened the front door with her foot and held it open with her hip as she dragged her partner inside.

They made it across the room before Marinette visibly deflated upon seeing the staircase. She turned to the kwami again. "But is dragging a feverish and probably unconscious superhero up a flight of stairs part of my job description?" She stared frantically at the kwami.

"Um..."

"No! No, it is not." She dropped her partner at the base of the stairs and placed her hands on her knees, taking a moment to catch her breath. "But…" she said in between breaths. "I can't leave him like this."

As the gears turned in her head, Marinette glanced at the staircase before looking down at Chat Noir. "I have a plan," she announced. "But first, I need to get him to the living room."

She placed her arms under his shoulders again, cautiously dragging him up the stairs. Marinette silently apologized as his head bumped into every step. She took a break on the third step, then on the seventh, and then on the tenth.  _ Only three more. You can do this, Marinette. _

By the time she reached the top, she was nearly as sweaty as her partner. She hoisted him onto the couch and plopped down into a chair next to him.

“So now what?” Her kwami asked.

“Now…” she said, still catching her breath. “We wait.” She leaned into the back of the chair, glancing at the hero to make sure his heart was still beating before closing her eyes and letting a breath escape her. “Mom and Dad will be home soon. They’ll know what to do.”

Her eyes fluttered as she began to drift into dreamland, but the distant sound of a bell downstairs brought her back to her living room. Tikki heard the noise too, and the kwami had already dove into a hiding place.

She instantly recognized her father’s voice. “Do you think she’s still awake?”

A quieter voice answered, “she will be if you’re not quiet, Tom.”

Marinette stood, stretching her legs and heading for the stairs. She glanced at Chat Noir and paused, her feet remaining planted at the top of the stairs. How exactly would her parents react? She hadn’t thought that far in advance yet. They would probably want to take him to the hospital, but that was not an option. Call his parents? She wouldn’t know who to call without removing his mask. And as long as he was like this, there was certainly no way he was going to get home on his own. Every next step seemed to end in an identity reveal.

She could  _ not _ let that happen.

Panic rushed through her, and with newfound strength, she threw the hero over her shoulder. She could hear her parents climbing the stairs. In seconds, she would be discovered. She bolted up the stairs to her room, closing the trapdoor as quietly as possible. It gave a heavy thud as it fell into place.

“Honey, did you hear something?”

Marinette’s breath caught in her throat as she slowly backed away from the door. Beads of sweat collected on her forehead, and she waited, fearing any movement would make too much noise.

“It was probably just the wind.”

Marinette remained in place until the sliver of light coming through the trapdoor faded and she could no longer hear her parents. She cautiously stepped toward the chaise, setting the hero down on the mattress and pulling a blanket over him.

She went back to the trapdoor and cracked it open, peeking outside into the dark living room. After one more glance at her partner, she slipped through the door and carefully stepped down the stairs.

Finding the thermometer took longer than expected. She had forgotten to bring a light, and her eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark. She rummaged through the drawer for what seemed like five minutes before her fingers brushed against it, and she pulled it out.

She began making her way back up to her room when she thought of something else. She stepped towards the bathroom, pulling a washcloth out of its drawer before returning to her room.

She turned the thermometer on and stuck it under Chat Noir’s tongue before going to the sink. She soaked the washcloth in cold water, wrung it out, and placed it across the hero’s forehead. The thermometer made a beeping noise, and she pulled it out of his mouth.  _ One hundred and two. _

“You’ve gotten yourself into quite the pickle, haven’t you?” She smiled at her partner, tugging the blanket over his shoulders. “At least you have your lady to take care of you.”

She climbed into her own bed, tugging the covers over her and reaching to turn out the light.

“Goodnight, kitty.”


End file.
